Without Armor
by evilredmenace
Summary: An introspective featuring Claire, Leon, and Sherry sort of following RE2
1. Aftermath

Newly re-edited... it's been almost three years. I'm not entirely sure what brought me back to this point... Claire and Leon... sigh It's been a while. I'll repost this is chapter form. Let me know what you think.  
  
Exhaustion has always been eminent, but never obvious.  
  
There have been, admittingly, many times that come to memory...  
  
the long walk back to untainted civilization...the nights where both  
  
Leon and I are too edgy for sleep... the overwhelming sense of  
  
protection for each other, Sherry, the world at large. Yes, protection  
  
would have to be the main thought on hand... perhaps instinctual. I  
  
know my brother had it.  
  
Had. Am I now referring him to past-tense? I seem to be  
  
slipping. A momentary lapse, I assure you. But again, that's what a  
  
week's worth of haggard wandering has led us... a week since we left  
  
Raccoon City; the altogether profoundly-fucked-up place of my brother's  
  
previous residence. Hell, Leon's employment when you get right to it. Although  
  
he wasn't around long enough to reap the benefits.  
  
Speaking of, he appears to be asleep at the moment... sprawled  
  
along the contours of the rather cheap upholstered couch...deep  
  
breathing...a little girl's tiny body positioned snug in his arms. I  
  
could hear the local news broadcasting on the television... the volume  
  
just above a whisper.  
  
Perhaps it's the comfort of walls... a sturdy  
  
door...uninhabited by groaning zombies, or any other essence of menace.  
  
Sherry certainly fell prey to it... she was zonked before we set foot  
  
in the door.  
  
Which is another thing. Gratitude for small blessings.  
  
Before I arrived in Raccoon City, I possessed a not thoroughly  
  
impressive bank account, most of which was dedicated to academic concerns.  
  
Couple thousand, actually. Leon maybe had a  
  
few twenties on him. Enough for immediate concerns... culinary  
  
sustenance being of major value. We ended up at a little greasy  
  
roadside diner, where the food was hot and cheap... I remember  
  
downing at least four cups of their instant coffee-lots of cream,  
  
lots of sugar, and a tall stack of buttermilk pancakes, which I promptly  
  
shared with Leon, who was only too happy to oblige. He and Sherry  
  
ordered thick burgers with extra everything... medium-well, accompanied  
  
with Strawberry shakes.  
  
It was almost entirely too much. After a day of hard walking,  
  
dehydrated, still absorbing past remembrances...Sherry evidently ate  
  
too much and threw up most of her dinner. We ended up spending the  
  
night in this little rathole of a place... "what you get for thirty  
  
bucks," Leon had muttered, picking at any leftover garbage along the  
  
threadbare-worsened rug.  
  
I didn't care. I doubt either of them did, really. I noted  
  
the one bed, which Leon declared would be both Sherry's and mine. He  
  
would be content with the couch.  
  
I had cleaned Sherry up... washing her little cherub face with  
  
a moist washcloth... giving her one of the diner's mints to suck on,  
  
seeing as that we weren't exactly teeth-cleaning accomidable.  
  
My love for her has always been immediate... my protectiveness  
  
as fierce as if I had indeed given birth to her. A flash of a familiar  
  
face... Annette. Her beguiled misgivings, yet over-riding concern for  
  
her welfare. I couldn't help but think about how damaging this all  
  
would be... upon a child so desperately young.  
  
"Claire?" Leon's sleep-induced voice... hesitant. Breaking  
  
from my reverie, I turn to gaze at the speaker... Leon Kennedy, former  
  
division of the RPD, just this side of twenty-two; a fresh-faced  
  
russet-locked asskicker of the premium kind. His heavy-lidded eyes met  
  
mine, obviously inquiring the current state of affairs.  
  
"Hey there." My greeting is somewhat subdued; the lack of  
  
genuine REM-endued sleep we share is troubling. Collectively, perhaps  
  
we have allowed ourselves a few hours over the last few days... enough  
  
to keep the hallucinations at bay, but certainly not for adequate  
  
routine.  
  
He glances down at the slumbering babe along side him... she  
  
has, admittingly, fared far better than either of us... perhaps sensing  
  
our unconditional surveillance, our unquestionable loyalty.  
  
He cracks a half-grin, one that betrays the bags forming under  
  
his eyes... the tender flesh. I return a brief smile, sitting on the  
  
decrepit adjacent coffee table.  
  
"Any pizza leftover?" He eyes the hours-old pizza box  
  
alongside me but is careful not to move, lest he wake Sherry. We  
  
seemed to have settled upon a routine of laxivity. Pizza, Chinese take  
  
out, whatever was of relative convenience... a meal, a few hours rest,  
  
and a continuation of movement. We would be out of here by 7am. We  
  
have already put a hundred miles between us and RC... thanks to the  
  
kindness of lonely truckers. The immediacy was something that we both  
  
agreed upon; where we go from here is a mixed bag of sorts... eventual  
  
contact with families, an overabundance of awareness, regarding the  
  
public anyway. Our caution with contacting family is justified; no  
  
doubt the bastards at Umbrella would just *love* find out our exact  
  
location. Hell, we'd be on the first plane back to that shithole.  
  
I whip out a tasteless-looking slice of Domino's... cheese with  
  
added sausage. He must have noted my disgust.  
  
"Ah, the joys of unrefrigerated life."  
  
I raise a brow, but say nothing. I didn't want to remind him  
  
that it was his idea to try this little hovel out... where you're lucky  
  
if you possess clean bedding. I also didn't mention the fact that the  
  
man downstairs had tried to charge me by the hour...  
  
Instead, while he ate, I plucked Sherry away from his position,  
  
depositing her softly in the bedroom. She breathes softy, at ease. I  
  
shut the door halfway, fully aware of her aversion to the dark.  
  
Leon is back to his contemplative pose, sitting upright,  
  
munching the pizza thoughtfully. I take the empty seat next to him,  
  
keeping the silence. I study the way his jaw tightens, the focus  
  
solely upon some greater thought. My appraisal pauses once I get down  
  
to his torso... the wound that had been festering for the last few days  
  
has finally stopped seeping. I had taken it upon myself to inspect it  
  
every night-against the protests of our resident modest mouse.  
  
Cleaning, rebandaging...He doesn't so much as outrightly refuse as  
  
much as express more than a little sheepishness when I offered the  
  
help...Peeling off his shirt, applying antiseptic...he would grit his  
  
teeth and bare it like a war veteran. When we reached the next big  
  
town, he would have to have someone experienced take a look at it... I  
  
knew next to nothing about medicinal procedure...just enough to keep me  
  
upright. 


	2. Struggle

"How do you feel?" I finally asked, folding my legs underneath  
  
me. We had taken the liberty of purchasing a few essentials for our  
  
journey... namely, a backpack, socks, change of clothes, dental  
  
hygiene, bottled water, and a couple of candy bars. Enough to last us  
  
the continuing walk down the highway.  
  
"Not bad," he replied, tossing the leftover crust into the  
  
battered pizza box. "I think once we catch a ride into town tomorrow,  
  
we should stop by the library to use their internet access. I figure  
  
that's the safest route of communication to our families, as well as a  
  
simpler means of getting out of here."  
  
I chewed my lower lip, considering his words. We would never  
  
know how much information Umbrella possessed about our persons... if  
  
any at all. But in our case, it never crossed our minds to be  
  
unconcerned... hence, the paranoia about outside contact. But  
  
something in his tone was nagging me... something about disregarding  
  
our previous fears, and ultimately wanting to divulge our crisis to our  
  
family and friends.  
  
"As long as you're confident that Umbrella would never be able  
  
to trace your place of residence," I answered, still studying him. "We  
  
still don't have any idea of the remaining survivors, or if Berkin was  
  
able to leak any information before..." I left that thought unfinished.  
  
He knew what I was leading up to anyway.  
  
"In all likelihood, nobody knows we exist," he countered,  
  
finally facing me. Again, this was probably true, but the sudden  
  
change of his demeanor was alarming. Where was his almost frantic  
  
concern about our safety? Or was it something else...  
  
The exact chain of events leading up to our dispersal were  
  
still pretty vague... Leon had mentioned a woman by the name of Ada  
  
Wong... whose history and intent were questionable at best. He  
  
wouldn't get into too much detail, but the striking look of hurt that  
  
crossed his face was enough for me... whatever little history they  
  
shared, it was enough to leave a lasting impression upon his poor  
  
damaged psyche.  
  
I decided to go for broke. "Leon, what is this all about  
  
exactly?" He shot me a decidingly tense look, which prompted me to  
  
continue. "I thought we agreed to wait it out for a while... watch the  
  
news... keep our eyes open. That arrival in person seemed the best  
  
course of action."  
  
Instead of answering directly, he swiped at the stubborn hair  
  
at his eyes...sighing deeply. A rather overdramatic display of  
  
exasperation Leon...Christ.  
  
"I'm tired, Claire." That wasn't exactly the response I had  
  
expected. He rubbed at the skin of his eyes...settling his thumb and  
  
forefinger upon the bridge of his nose, a certain indication of his  
  
previous statement. "And frankly, I don't think we can keep this up."  
  
That enlisted a bitter retort on my end, but I attempted to  
  
smother it immediately. He was just being honest, but I couldn't hide  
  
my hurt and disappointment. How the hell did he expect me to respond?  
  
Didn't he know that I shared his exhaustion, his eagerness to get the  
  
hell out of here...back to the world of normalcy? Did he think I  
  
wasn't concerned about notifying my parents... finding my brother...  
  
This time I bit my lip, struggling for composure. I would not  
  
allow myself to weep just yet. It was unnecessary and it was  
  
distracting. I didn't need Leon's pity or remorse... but I definitely  
  
needed to see his motivations...and really, we both required mutual  
  
understanding.  
  
Another deep sigh...he seemed somewhat hesitant to  
  
continue...or maybe he just didn't know what else to say. I don't  
  
think we can keep this up...Christ, Leon.  
  
"That is a rather vague concept, Kennedy." I finally stated,  
  
staring him down. He returned the gesture in kind. "If you mean to  
  
suggest that we can survive a city smitten with cannibalistic zombies,  
  
mutated monsters from beyond imagination...and not be able to make the  
  
transition back to civilization, I find your logic flawed."  
  
"It's not the transition, Claire." He took the liberty of  
  
getting up and closing the bedroom door... another gesture on Sherry's  
  
behalf. He continued to stand, letting the intensity of his  
  
frustration overwhelm his stance. "We've got a helluva long way to go  
  
before we end up in recognizable safe territory..."  
  
"That never daunted you before, why should it now?" I  
  
demanded, letting my own anger surface.  
  
"Because we've got a little girl to take care of as well... and  
  
it's about time we started thinking about her best interests."  
  
I was stunned. Was he suggesting that we had some other  
  
motivation involved? I stood up, mimicking his posture. "Do you  
  
really think I haven't been thinking of Sherry this entire time we've  
  
been here? Huh?" I was within a few feet of him, tempted to complete  
  
the whole stereotypical face to face confrontation. Another temptation  
  
squashed.  
  
"I don't think you have been thinking of the ultimate reality  
  
here, no." Coldly, stately... infuriatingly so. I wanted nothing more  
  
than slapping the shit out of him. "Do you think the way we've been  
  
going about this is ultimately the best choice? Do you honestly think  
  
that hitchhiking across the country is the best way to keep out the eye  
  
of suspicion?" He glanced over to the bedroom. "Don't you think that  
  
it looks rather *odd* to have two people as young as we are with a  
  
child? And the added bonus of appearing on one of two possible roads  
  
out of there... Where Umbrella scouts could very easily be looking for  
  
our descriptions... does this not strike you at all?"  
  
I remained silent... seething, but reflective. He had a  
  
point... in either scenario, we would be risking something. But I  
  
remained indignant... still stung over his rashness...his utter  
  
audacity. I needed some air; Leon had stolen my breath from this room.  
  
I started to walk towards the door, intent on a walk...  
  
anything to get out of the immediate vicinity. But he had the balls to  
  
grab my arm... force me to face him.  
  
"Is that what you do when things don't go your way Claire? You  
  
take off?" Normally azure eyes darkened with intensity... the color of  
  
bruises along the inside of my arm.  
  
"Let...go...Leon." I grimaced through teeth... blinking  
  
fire...savagely ripping away from his grasp. A few seconds of heated  
  
eye contact, then I hurried away. 


	3. Distraction

I didn't have any direction in mind... just out and away.  
  
So I stumbled outside... walking alongside the graveled  
  
driveway towards one of those stained-looking truck stops. Inhaling a  
  
pot of coffee at the moment didn't exactly sound sensational...as did  
  
consuming an ashload of second-hand smoke.  
  
I opted for a closer inspection of the wilderness...this part  
  
of the country astounded me in its natural richness. Dense forests,  
  
sparse pollution. And my rather frail looking t-shirt and jeans didn't  
  
hold up much against the weather...I was freezing my ass off, but  
  
ultimately refused to head back to sensibility.  
  
Now, I wasn't dumb enough to just B-line it through the damn  
  
woods... but I loved how the night's meager light hit the trees... the  
  
various scents...the crispness of the evening. It gave me pause;  
  
admiration for beauty and simplicity despite all that had happened  
  
recently.  
  
I don't know... it's difficult to describe my thoughts... I  
  
feel almost betrayed my Leon's words... his coldness... his sudden  
  
juxtaposition into intensity. But why exactly I felt so threatened was  
  
another mystery, because it wasn't as if his actual words were entirely  
  
offensive...  
  
...But perhaps, there is an interior voice within me, saying  
  
that I would not willingly desire to leave this situation without some  
  
sort of conclusive reaction. True, risking life and limb amongst  
  
gruesome creations of hell aren't exactly desirable situations...  
  
still...there is something about the way tension brings people  
  
together...the automatic reassurance...the trust that ensues...  
  
"Did you get yourself lost, little darlin'?"  
  
...And evaporates.  
  
I turn to see alcohol-bloated males surrounding me; four of  
  
them to be exact. The darkness disguises their actual age, but I'd  
  
venture to guess they are WAY past their prime. I can smell a  
  
combination of onion rings and Jim Beam from the fifteen feet between  
  
us...surely not a good sign.  
  
But I don't blink an eye. I fold my arms in an impatient  
  
gesture, perhaps hoping they'd take the hint and buzz off. No such  
  
luck.  
  
The primary vocalist takes another step towards me; big  
  
mistake. If he so much as takes another...  
  
"Gentlemen, I'd appreciate to be left alone." My tone is  
  
purposely annoyed and impatient; although I left my baretta back at the  
  
room, I have never been without my boot knife this entire duration. If  
  
worse got to worse...  
  
And they certainly didn't give a damn what I wanted. All four  
  
started to approach, their gravel crunch the only sound amongst  
  
silence.  
  
"C'mon, sweetheart...you look sweet enough." His voice  
  
is dry and hoarse; the years of cigarette dependence resonate  
  
throughout. This is not my night. There was a world of difference  
  
between attacking zombies and live people...no matter what kind of  
  
assholes they were. I didn't want to stab any of them; but unless my  
  
pride would allow me the option of fleeing...  
  
My thoughts were caught off when one unexpectedly made a grab  
  
for me. He got as far as gripping my upper arm when a swift kick in  
  
the balls landed him on the ground. I didn't think twice.  
  
"...goddamn bitch..." he uttered, still holding himself. The  
  
remaining three looked perplexed for a few seconds, then, seeing their  
  
buddy down, they decided to follow suit in the aggressive mode.  
  
For raging alcoholics, they were pretty well coordinated. They  
  
closed in quickly; again grabbing me, attempting to force me to the  
  
ground...This is where the exquisite training from Chris came in...  
  
chimney sweep to the ankle...a hard blow to the kidney to another...  
  
however, the one to remain standing actually got a decent hit on  
  
me...connecting just above my breastbone.  
  
I lost my footing, but continued to roll backward, away from my  
  
assailants. Alright, screw pride...I'm getting the hell out of  
  
here. My chest was burning...there would definitely be a bruise in  
  
the morning...I probably would have made it back to the room if I  
  
hadn't waited so long...I was immediately seized by rough hands pinning  
  
my arms back...out of commission.  
  
Aw, Christ. Now I felt something close to fear... not  
  
panic... but I was more than uneasy...they had recovered and I was  
  
hurting... my chest was flaming like no other...  
  
And that's when they started ripping at my clothes.  
  
"Get the fuck off of me!" I shrieked...kicking wildly...trying  
  
to dislodge my arms. He held them steadfast; his breath heavy on my  
  
neck. The recovered three methodically slapped my face...swinging my  
  
head from side to side until I started seeing things...weird lights.  
  
Everything stung... my muscles ached... and I feared what they wanted  
  
to do.  
  
Suddenly my face was shoved in the ground...earth and god knew  
  
what else caking my mouth, teeth, and gums. I heard further sounds of  
  
a struggle...the unmistakable sound of knuckles connecting with  
  
bodies...shouts of protest...again, the sound of gravel crunching.  
  
It wasn't until I heard the silence that I was pushed on my  
  
back, forced once again to meet the sky...  
  
And a familiar face.  
  
"CLAIRE?" It was so dark... I could barely make out Leon's  
  
features...but his voice was unmistakable. I felt warm hands  
  
examining...feeling for wounds...the extent of my injuries. "Jesus,  
  
say something."  
  
"My name isn't Jesus," I murmured, my voice cracked and low.  
  
He quickly thrust his jacket over me, rubbing the sleeves...attempting  
  
to elicit warmth, which I had never possessed in the first place. He  
  
smoothed the dirt and hair from my face. I tried not to flinch, but  
  
really, the reaction was automatic. I started to get up, but Leon  
  
restricted my movement; continuing to hold me down ever so gently.  
  
"Claire, try not to move for a while...just relax."  
  
Relax??? It hit me all of a sudden... everything I had  
  
been through in the space of a week...no sleep...excessive  
  
movement...stress, continuous fight for survival...and now a thwarted  
  
attempt at sexual perversion.  
  
I threw his jacket off me and sat up, much to the protest of  
  
both my body and Leon. I made a shaky attempt at standing.  
  
"Claire..."  
  
"WHAT, LEON?" Okay, so my voice was now hitting the jagged  
  
edge of hysteria. That didn't mean that I needed to be haggled over.  
  
I took one uneasy step and nearly toppled over...  
  
But thankfully, Leon kept me from smacking the ground.  
  
He gathered me to him...prodding my arms around his neck for  
  
better support...looking into my face...inspecting further damage  
  
perhaps. I laid my head on his shoulder, tired of protesting. He just  
  
kind of stood there for a while... his arms tightening...rubbing my  
  
own...was I really that cold? He certainly exerted an overabundance of  
  
warmth...I clung closer to it...unfamiliar with being this close to  
  
him. Sure, we had embraced...shared both grief and relief...but this  
  
was different...the crown of my head fell perfectly under his chin...I  
  
could feel his even breath alongside my face...but his heart was  
  
definitely racing.  
  
That's when I caught sight of the several of the remaining  
  
bodies in the grass...not all of them, but perhaps half...planted face  
  
first...away from us.  
  
"They aren't dead," he grimly stated, as if reading my  
  
thoughts. I shuddered involuntarily...not sure how I felt about that.  
  
Instead of dwelling, Leon took the liberty of lifting me into a  
  
stereotypical threshold position...his grip certain and immediate.  
  
This time, I didn't say a word... 


End file.
